Unwanted Help
by Deckenpuppel
Summary: During the War of the Satyr, a group of Sentinels find themselves faced with overwhelming odds and unlikely allies.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: The last Stand**

 _'A demon hunter may win the respect of other warriors, however, and can become a valued asset to any military unit stationed in places where demons roam — though the hunter will still be isolated and distrusted.'_

 _\- Alliance Player's Guide, page 189 -_

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 **Felwood, Sentinel Encampment**

 **Autumn, 9831**

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 **A** s the satyrs amassed for another charge, Akilina knew they would not be able to hold.

The ground beneath her feet was slippery with the blood of the fallen, the soil so soaked that it refused to swallow a single ounce of it more. She sat huddled up the pitiful remnants of a once magnificent elm, the thick knotted wood now dead and brittle as all life had been scorched from it by the fiendish magic the enemy wielded. The air was permeated with the stench of death, and the moaning of the dying and wounded hung like a demoralizing chorus over the encampment. Akilina checked her quiver, finding that it was not even filled to half of its capacity. What few arrows there were had been pulled from the bodies of their enemies for the sixth or seventh time, and had suffered for it. Soon, they would be useless and their ammunition utterly depleted. It was only a small comfort that it barely mattered at this point.

Trying to shake and blink away the numbness in her head, she hauled herself up, leaning against the scorched tree trunk in order to keep her balance. Beyond the ravaged patch of land that marked where the forces of the kaldorei had clashed with the enemy over the past days, she could see the demonic forces moving and shifting between the trees that they had defiled. There was braying and chittering and all kinds of otherworldly noises as the fiends tried to defy their very nature and create some semblance of order out of the chaos of their idleness. It was difficult to say how long the process would take them this time.

Akilina started moving. She treaded carefully around the gnarled roots of the towering trees, past vibrant bushes and flowers that had been nurtured by the power of the land. All around her, Sentinels had curled up on the ground right next to the wounded, sleeping or at least trying to rest when proper sleep eluded them. Used to fighting under the light of the moon, the demons' charges alternating between day and night had worn out the kaldorei beyond the usual tiredness of battle, and had made it necessary to divide the troops into equal shifts. Half the troops were resting right now, the other half on guard duty, standing ready in case the demons attacked. Akilina knew this better than anybody. She had been the one ordering it. Just as she now ordered for her resting sisters to be woken up. She only wished she could have ordered for someone else to take over.

She was merely a Sentinel, and a rather young one at that by the standards of her people. Under normal circumstances, none of her sisters would have taken orders from her. Unfortunately for all, the circumstances were anything but normal. The process of elimination that had seen her elevated into the position of leadership had started with Lieutenant Skymane on the first day of the battle, and had ended with Priestess Shadesong merely a few hours ago. Now, she was all they had left, in command not because of some specific skill or talent, but simply due to the fact that she had been at the priestess' side when she died, and was known to have been a novice of the Sisterhood, if only briefly. In a situation as desperate and forlorn as the one they were in, it must have appeared like as good a reason as any to settle the question of leadership. Many more seasoned sisters probably didn't object because they themselves cared nothing for bearing the responsibility of the imminent defeat themselves. Others were hoping for a miracle, and deluded themselves into believing that in choosing Akilina they had somehow increased their chances for getting one. Akilina found herself envying them for this mad hope, for she herself had none left. On the off chance that there would be some kind of miracle, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she would not be the cause of it.

She moved on, the members of her rag-tag force rising to their feet around her. The expressions of the other Sentinels were grim and weary as they nodded and saluted at her passing form, their faces covered in bruises and discolorations or hidden beneath strips of bandages. Some of the huntresses still bore untended wounds even as they finished patching up their nightsaber companions. There was only one hippogryph remaining, one of its wings rendered useless by two satyr arrows. They didn't even know what its name was. Its rider had broken its neck during the fall, shortly before the rest of the hippogryph riders had been ripped apart by a magical explosion unleashed by one of the very spellcasters they had set out to hunt.

Their furbolg allies had paid a similarly high prize for their loyalty and support. Akilina saw six of the ursine warriors remaining, covered in wounds and growling softly in their native tongue as they grabbed their weapons and readied themselves for the fight. Six out of the dozens of tribal warriors and totemics that the Deadwood tribe had dedicated to seeing the demons and their corruption driven from their ancestral home. They would probably be the first to fall when Akilina and her forces failed.

A raspy growling sound that didn't come from the furbolgs caused her to stop. Following the sound, her gaze was drawn to one of the many gaps in the treeline, out onto the large clearing that was littered with the corpses of vile demons and valiant defenders alike. Since their aerial assault on the enemy spellcasters, they had not seen any more reanimated corpses, and their diligence in getting rid of the bodies of the fallen had waned since then. It took her a moment, but then Akilina beheld the lean figure of a lonely nightsaber whose body still heaved with the faint semblance of life. Seeing the proud beast, forsaken and obviously dying, a fresh wave of heart-wrecking sadness washed over her. Something inside of her just gave way. Without consciously realizing it, she started walking towards it, ignoring the imploring gazes of her fellow Sentinels as she left the shadows of the trees to step onto the battlefield.

The proud animal lay sprawled out within a circle of fallen enemies, its fur stained with blood both red and green in color, while other parts of its body had been severely burned by fiendish flames. Four deep cuts, probably inflicted by the claw of a satyr, gaped in its side. There was blood everywhere, gathering in pools beneath it and trickling into the hollows of the uneven ground. The head of the beast's rider rested in one of these, partly submerged in puddle of red. Pinned beneath the massive body of his mount, it looked as if she might have drowned rather to meet her end at the hands of her enemies. Akilina prayed that it wasn't so.

She dropped to her knees in front of the giant cat's massive head. Big and sad yet beautiful eyes stared pleadingly at her through half-closed lids. Akilina felt tears streaming down her face, and she was not ashamed of them. They were not only for the proud animal that was beyond saving, but for all the losses and hardship of the last weeks, for all the sisters and friends that would never share a laugh or stride through the forests of Ashenvale again, for all the people she had not been able to save.

She nodded grief-stricken at the beast, understanding that there was only one service she could offer to the noble soul in front of her. Her hand reached for her knife, while the other started to pet the great cat on its head. The nightsaber let out a soft, pain-filled growl, but somehow managed to muster the strength to nestle against Akilina's hand, exposing its throat in the process. Akilina closed her eyes, muttered another payer, and then plunged the dagger through the creature's neck. The nightsaber's head grew limp beneath her touch and it died quietly. Akilina stayed until she was sure it was gone.

She had always been softer than most of her people. Too soft in fact, at least that was what Priestess Phaerdris had insisted on. Akilina had joined the temple with the conviction to tend and nurture, to carry the love of Mother Moon into the hearts of others. But in the eyes of the senior priestess, Akilina had not possessed the will to do what was required from a priestess on the field of battle. At another temple, Akilina maybe would have been allowed to become a servant of Elune despite these shortcomings, but not under Phaerdris Startear, who embodied the martial aspect of the Sisterhood maybe more than even High Priestess Tyrande herself. So Akilina had been asked to leave the temple, because she was deemed too soft. Naturally, she had complied. One did not refuse the wishes of the temple. Certainly not as a young acolyte. Now, several decades later, she was a soldier on a battlefield as bloody and horrific as she could imagine. The irony of that fact did not escape her.

It felt like she was sleepwalking when she made her way back behind the lines. She could still feel the eyes of the others resting upon her. Almost buckling under the weight, she had barely taken up position behind the scorched elm again when a cold, chiding voice rose to her right.

"A touching gesture, sister," it said. "Touching, but ultimately misguided."

Akilina resisted the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. Either would have costed too much energy to be spent on something as trifling and fleeting as annoyance. If she had ascended to lead their forces in their last stand by divine providence or a cruel twist of fate, Ursalani Duskdeer had taken the mantel of her first lieutenant with a naturalness that tolerated no opposition. Stern and utterly unshakeable, the senior Sentinel was about as flexible in her beliefs as a finely crafted bow, able to give and bent just far enough as to turn her into a deadly weapon into the arsenal of the Sisterhood. As a superior, it had made her demanding and judgmental, but now that the positions were reversed, Ursalani had taken to reprimand and question every decision with the bickering thoroughness of a disappointed mother trying to groom her charge for greatness.

Akilina didn't see the point. She harbored no illusions about making it through the day, and it was hard to imagine it being any different for Ursalani. Maybe, after living for many long centuries, the notion of finally having run out of time was too elusive to grasp, even for warriors who should have known better.

"It saddens me to think that you don't approve, sister," Akilina said. "I was providing a service to one who just lost his life serving our people. Don't try to tell me that it was wrong."

Ursalani shook her head in a condescending way. "I did not say wrong. I said misguided. The beast might thank you, but your sisters are going to suffer for it. You just showed heart; weakness, just when the women around you look to you for strength and guidance."

The glow of Akilina's eyes flared with anger, and she wasted precious strength as her first clenched around the wood of her bow. She glanced aside, and caught glimpses of her other sisters looking at her with expressionless, weary faces. Did they really seem any more downtrodden than they had a couple of minutes ago? Akilina didn't think so, and yet she found herself inclined to beat herself up about it all the same. That was what the seed of doubt could do to a soldier's mind.

She didn't get much time to ponder the issue. Beyond the clearing, the braying and snarling had constantly swelled, turning into a cacophony of bestial sounds, beating drums and screeching horns. The satyrs and their minions were taunting one another, sniggering and jeering in a fury-drunken revelry that rose and rose — then suddenly stopped. The last voices died away, the drums stopped, and a deadly, eerie quiet took hold of the forest. Akilina was sure she would have been able to hear even a leaf falling to the ground at this point.

Then — with a massive, earth-shattering roar — the demonic horde charged.

They poured forth from the forest like an avalanche, a writhing swarm of horns and claws that swallowed the ground beneath it. The felhounds came first, a giant pack of them, all red corded muscle, bleached bone plates and slimy black strands. On all fours, the beasts quickly separated from the main group, rushing at their prey with all the impressive speed their otherwordly bodies were able to muster.

Next came the true victims of the war. Dark gnarled wood, oozing with sickly ichor shifted and moved as dozens of corrupted treants shambled into view. Their faces were warped and splintered into serrated teeth and malicious faces, and the creatures wailed with the sounds of snapping branches and aching wood, shedding rotting foliage with each stride. Seeing these avatars of the forest tormented like this had an impact that could be felt throughout the kaldorei's lines, a tangible sense of failure and shame that ate away at their spirits.

The rest of the demons came after the treants, hiding behind their thick bark and keeping to their shadows. They were mostly satyrs; leonine, demonic perversions of the kaldorei. Only a few imps, voidwalkers and other fel-creatures were strewn in among their ranks.

Whoever had come up with the plan utilize the treants as cover had more sense than the average satyr. The wooden creatures were forming an almost impenetrable line between the satyrs and their enemy, shielding them not only from a potential counter-charge but also the ranged attacks for which the Sentinels were renowned. It was only partly true for the archers, who were more than capable of sending volleys flying in deadly arcs over the corrupted treemen, but for the huntresses and other glaive wielders, the treants posed quite a barrier that would shield their corrupters from harm.

Few of the satyrs saw it that way, though. With their frail leashes of discipline torn and unraveled, most of the former Highborne behaved like rabid beasts. Instead of hunkering down behind the creatures they had driven mad, they acted as if the treants were some kind of fence unjustly interposed between them and their prey. They railed against it like unruly livestock, throwing themselves against it, trying to move around or seeking to climb and jump over the slower moving treants. The result was quite a bizarre and disturbing sight.

Opposite of them, the Sentinels immediately jumped to attention. Archers and glaive-wielders lined up between battered trees, determined not to let the enemy pass, no matter what it would cost them. Akilina could see it written all over their faces, the spark of grim determination still visible within their otherwise dulled eyes. Their bodies were moving without any passion or vigor at this point. They had no energy left to give, and so their bodies drew solely upon decades and decades of experience to keep going. It was a sight that filled Akilina with pride.

The furious charge of the Legion was met with hails of arrows, produced with a speed and frequency that searched its equal in the known world. The remaining huntresses rode out in a tight column, shields and weapons held close to their chests, urging their mounts onwards. They moved in close, cutting from one side of the field to the other, tossing their glaives into the approaching mass of felhounds and tearing bloody swaths into the legion's ranks. They worked in perfect unison with the archers, leaving wide enough gabs in their formation to allow their sisters to sustain the hail of arrows despite their own attacks. The effect was devastating, and the demonic vanguard suffered heavy losses, with wounded demons stumbling and falling only to be trampled to death by their comrades without any mercy or second thought. It was not enough to break the charge. The huntresses were forced to turn around and hurry back, urging their mounts to great speed in order to escape the felhounds that were rushing after them.

Unfortunately for them, the other demons were not idle either. The air crackled with dark energy as a satyr in tattered rich clothing pushed himself to the front. The hellcaller raised his claw, and an inferno of greenish flames erupted from it. Akilina was forced to watch as the felfire arced through the air and engulfed the huntresses, swallowing the entire unit. Many emerged from the blaze a second later, their hair, clothing and the fur of their mounts singed, but otherwise relatively unharmed. Others were not so lucky, and as the fire died away, several huntresses reappeared only as charred smoking corpses on the ground. The survivors turned their mounts around one last time, grim curses on their lips as they threw their spinning blades at the enemy in an act of defiance. Then they continued their retreat.

Akilina sighed. It would have been a wiser course of action for all of them.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, catching Akilina completely off guard. She tried to squeeze her eyes shot, but it was too late. Her vision went white, and she stood powerless, unable to do anything but listen to the alarmed cries of her sisters. Her heart sank. What new foulness had the demons unleashed now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two: The Arrival**

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 **T** he flash of light came out of nowhere. Sizzling and hissing filled the air and a swoosh of air hit Akilina's face as she tried to shield her eyes against the glare. Her skin prickled, the hairs on the nape of her neck raised. She knew these symptoms only too well. Arcane magic was being unleashed. Not the demon-tainted power of the fel, but the magical energy that radiated from the Well of Eternity beneath the roots of mighty Nordrassil. Most kaldorei knew the difference between the two sensations by hard. The only ones that didn't were the ones fortunate enough never to have encountered a servant of the Twisting Nether or their foul magic.

When the flash subsided, two new figures had appeared upon the battlefield. Standing at the center of a now fading circle of power several yards ahead of the Sentinel's lines, the newcomers found themselves directly facing the demonic onslaught. They did seem neither worried, nor surprised.

The first was the white-haired girl, nothing but a child by the standards of their people. Yet there was nothing innocent or carefree in her movements or demeanor. The girl moved with the deadly grace of a hunting cat. She wore nothing but a dark kilt and bandage-like straps of black leather around her torso. Akilina would have admired her courage and confidence to appear on a battlefield such as this one, had she not known what forbidden power was fueling this confidence, and had the living proof of how high the price of that power was not stood right next to her.

The Nightelf's skin was of a darker purple than anything Akilina had ever encountered before. The tattoos on his muscular arms and chest were ablaze with the sickly green glow of the great beyond. Like the girl, he was wearing a black kilt, together with bracers and a tattered blindfold that covered his eyes. At first glance, it looked as if his hair was knotted into many, oiled braids that danced peculiarly in the breeze. Only that there was no breeze, and it was no hair. Rather, it was a multitude of chitinous tentacles protruding from the elf's head, not unlike the ones found on the felhounds that were charging towards him. When he turned, she saw that the dark powers he dabbled in had consumed the better part of his face as well, eating away his lips and the flesh around his mouth. It left him with a cruel, ever-smiling grimace of sharp fangs that only increased the similarity to the dog-like demons. Akilina flinched at the sight. It was repulsive. Only the demon hunter's ears remained to even so much as hint at his past as one of the kaldorei.

Then again, he had probably never considered himself as such.

The Night elves prided themselves with knowing their enemies, and the traitors and betrayers among their own kind were no exception. When Akilina beheld the demon hunter's nightmarish appearance, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was looking at the one known as Hellbourne. In a way, it was a thrilling experience, for Hellbourne was infamous even when compared to others of his kind. Not counting the Betrayer himself, of course. Little was known about how the first demon hunters came into being after the imprisonment of Illidan Stormrage, but many Wardens seemed to think that this Hellbourne had somehow been involved, maybe even representing the very first doomed soul to follow in the Betrayer's footsteps. Or so she had heard. What she knew for certain was that he was a former Quel'dorei, one of the few that had evaded banishment alongside the other Highborne. Taken together with his hellish appearance, it wasn't hard to imagine how someone had come up with his new name.

There were no cheers for the unexpected reinforcements. Wherever Akilina looked, all she saw was disgust and contempt. A few of her sisters actually hawked and spat at the ground, while others hurled obscenities and insults at the pair. Ursalani, standing right next to Akilina, belonged to the later group.

"Go! Leave! We don't want your help, traitors!" she shouted, and others followed her example until it echoed like a chorus over the clearing. Akilina understood how they felt, how it insulted their sense of honor and devotion to Elune to receive help from those so treading outside of her divine light. Still, part of her could not help but wonder. She wondered whether she should not have been grateful for the arrival of help, no matter what shape or from it had taken. Maybe, unbeknownst to them all, the demon hunter and the girl had appeared because Mother Moon willed it so. Could anyone truly claim that there was no chance of this being the case? Akilina didn't think so, but what she thought hardly mattered in the bigger picture of things. The stance of the Sisterhood of Elune was pretty clear on these matters. Her being of a different mind would be at best seen as misguided foolishness, more likely as outright heresy. Neither prospect seemed especially promising to her.

The demon hunter did not rise to the baits and insults of the kaldorei. He barely even acknowledge their presence. A single glance was all they got. Then his sightless gaze moved to focus on the charging demon horde, and his young companion mimicked his stoic behavior.

As the kaldorei, the demons on the other side did not take kindly to the demon hunters' arrival. Their reaction was strangely similar, only that their insults and taunts were conveyed less in speech and more in hissing and feral snarls, their tails lashing around as they worked themselves into an even greater frenzy. The felhounds increased their pace with slavering mouths, hungering for the magic that had carried the demon hunter onto the battlefield. Normally, the satyrs would have been comfortable with leaving it to the pack to rip their enemies apart, as evidenced by their current position, hauled up behind their bulwark of corrupted treants. But something about Hellbourne's arrival unsettled the horned devils in a way that forced them into taking action. Maybe it was some twisted sense of rivalry, Akilina thought. After all, they all had been Highbornes once upon a time, and had traded away Elune's grace in exchange for demonic power. The only question was who had gotten more out of his vile barter.

Greenish flames blazed up within the ranks of the satyrs, illuminating a female hellcaller with white fur and a tunic made from gold cloth. The felfire grew between her claws into a massive orb, like a sickly green, smaller version of the sun that plunged the forest into its unnatural gloom. She hurled it forth with a flick of her wrists, and the fireball took off, arcing through the air with its blaze trailing behind it, straight towards Hellbourne and his younger charge.

Akilina expected them to immediately try and dodge out of the way, but they didn't. Hellbourne held his ground and fixated the incoming spell, as if he was marveling at it. Absent-mindedly, he nodded backwards over his shoulder, and the white-haired girl stepped instantly into the shadows of his back.

Despite herself, Akilina heard herself shout a warning, but the demon hunters ignored her. Hellbourne waited as the fiery missile closed in on him, then even spread his arms to expose his unprotected torso. Just as the fireball was about to engulf him, the tentacles on his head snapped up and darted forward like a pack of angry snakes. There was a hiss, and as if the strands were breathing it in, the fireball's energy was leeched away and devoured. Hellbourne's mocking laughter filled the air as everybody watched how the fireball shrank and withered before the very eyes, puffing out of existence before being able to do any harm. But the magic didn't simply disappear. It was absorbed into the demon hunter's body, literary setting the tattoos on his body on fire with sickly green energy.

For a heartbeat, Hellbourne maintained his inviting stance, allowing the demons a good look at him, before roaring and hauling the magic back at the demons. The white haired satyr and a dozen of demons close to her disappeared within an arcane explosion that shook the ground, coating it with blood and entrails and littering the field with torn body parts.

The demon hunter had a couple of seconds to enjoy his handiwork. Then the felhounds were upon him. A dozen of the demons competed for the right to lunge at the demon hunters directly. Only the strongest among them were able to prevail, pushing their rivals out of the way and throwing themselves at the two kaldorei with claws, teeth, and flailing tentacles. The rest of the pack flowed around the pair, trapping them within multiple shifting circles of milling bodies rather than charging on into the lines of the Sentinels.

A confused murmur passed through the lines of the defenders, sounds laced with a tinge of bitterness. It took Akilina a moment to realize that her sisters were outraged and offended. After days of endless fighting, after suffering through magical bombardments and their own dead coming back to haunt them, after losing comrades friends and loved ones, suddenly the demons ignored them. They were no longer important enough to kill. It was the ultimate insult, and weirdly, it left the Sentinels somewhat envious and jealous of the demon hunters. The notion was ridiculous and petty in ways that Akilina would not have deemed possible, and yet it baffled her sisters enough for their bombardment of the enemy to cease for the moment.

The demon hunters fought on grimly on their own. The very magic that attracted the hounds in the first place now became the instrument of their destruction. Much like Hellbourne himself had done with the satyr's magic, the felhounds were capable of draining away pretty much any form of magic directed at them. Unlike the hellcallers though, Hellbourne knew exactly what he was up against, and how to circumvent this particular ability of his enemy.

The first hounds that threw themselves at the demon hunter were taken apart by a swirling flurry of blades. The searing glaives tore through skin, flesh and bone like it was nothing, slicing off claws and entire heads before they had a chance of tearing into Hellbourne in return. As soon as he had cleared himself a second of breathing room, his tactics changed. Bright, azure light flared up around his fingertips, and like ballista bolts he began to hammer projectiles of pure magic into the ground around him. Each of the projectiles was places meticulously, always just out of reach of the hungering hounds that actually threw themselves at each spell, not unlike a domesticated wolf eager to catch some item its tamer had tossed. But each time, they failed, and the magic slammed and disappeared into the ground, its light fading beneath a plume of fine dust. A second later, the ground exploded, and yelping demons were tossed into the air like rag dolls among chunks of earth and rock.

The bombardment was the only reason the girl was able to hold her own. It wasn't like she wasn't deadly on her own. In fact, she was very good, as skillful and agile as any Sentinel Akilina bad ever seen, but surrounded by the demons on all sides, skill alone would not have been enough to survive. Without room to maneuver, she would have been dead within seconds. But Hellbourne provided her with that very room. He effectively controlled the battlefield, creating space for them where they needed it while simultaneously holding great numbers of the demons at bay with his magic. It enabled them to inflict a heavy toll among the demons with their blades, cutting and slashing and slaying with impunity. Given enough time, they might just have been able to finish the entire pack off on their own. Unfortunately, time was something that they didn't have. The rest of the demonic forces were closing in fast.

The gathered Sentinels watched the spectacle with a mixture of awe, envy and rage. Not one of them had broken formation to support the demon hunters. Akilina's eyes flickered left and right, searching for some sign of discomfort or unease, but there was none. They all just watched as the two lonely souls took on the entire pack, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Part of Akilina could understand their reaction only too well. If there were two corrupted beings that needed to be put down, and they just so happened to rip each other apart, nature was served without any effort on the side of its protectors. It might have seemed like a merciless and calculating formula, but it was exactly this hard mindset that had served the Sentinels well during the Long Vigil. Even Akilina couldn't argue that as far as demons were concerned there was something like a too merciless approach to dealing with them.

The issue was, she wasn't certain what they were witnessing were demons fighting on e another. True, Hellbourne's gruesome mutations and weird physical kinship to the felspawn he was fighting indeed made it look like a battle of kindred nightmares, like two members of the same species competing for dominance over the herd. But looks could be deceiving, and anyone watching the battle unfold knew immediately that this wasn't a quarrel over animalistic hierarchy nor political squabble of scheming demonic minds. These were demon hunters hunting their prey; two twisted souls doing the right thing the wrong way.

Maybe they were lost, maybe they were criminals and traitors, but right now, they were fighting the forces of the Great Beyond, and more importantly, had come to the Sentinels' aid when they didn't had to. How was that help repaid? With scorn and indifference, watching them fight — and die — alone, as their lives didn't matter. Suddenly, Akilina wasn't quite so sure who the criminals and traitors truly were.

"This is disgusting," Ursalani murmured next to her.

Akilina couldn't help but agree. "It is," she said and paused. Then, her features hardened. "Instruct the archers to thin out the pack at its edges and ready the signal. We charge as soon as the last arrow is in the air."

Ursalani turned towards her as if she had just been slapped. "You want us to help them?"

Her tone made it very clear that she considered the very notion to be ludicrous, but Akilina was through playing her games.

"As far as I am concerned, **they** are helping **us.** I'm merely not allowing it to go to waste."

"With all due respect sister, you can't — "

"I just gave you an order, Sentinel!" Akilina snapped. "Now either do as you are told, or find me someone who will."

She would burn for this. She knew it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Seeing Ursalani blanch, then bare her teeth only confirmed it. There would be a reckoning when this was over, assuming any of them would survive. If that came to pass, Akilina would happily face any charges for consorting with the damned or sullying the souls of those that served under her. Her duty, she felt, was more to their lives than to their notions of right and wrong. She begged Elune's forgiveness.

Ursalani was trembling under the strain of her disgust and rage for a moment, but then her tremendous sense of discipline reasserted itself. She swallowed her pride, and in a steady voice Akilina's orders were relayed to the archers. Even then, most of the Sentinels hesitated. It was only when Akilina herself sent an arrow punching through a demon's neck that the rest of the archers finally fell in, and the shafts started flying again.

Between the two hunters, and the concentrated fire of the kaldorei, the Felhounds were decimated. But their thirst for magic was boundless, and like a moth drawn to the flame, they kept throwing themselves at their prey, unable to realize that by doing so they continued to fall prey to their enemies' attacks. Dozens more of the demons were slain without a single one of the defenders laying down her life in the process, and eventually a simultaneous sweep of both of Hellbourne's glaives bisected the very last of the creatures. It slumped to the ground with a dull thud, and the demon hunters were left alone standing in a sea of corpses, gore-streaked but very much alive.

It was but the silence before the storm. The main part of the demon host still thundered on, charging over the open ground towards the two lonely figures that stood fifty feet ahead of the kaldorei's lines. They still outnumbered the Sentinels by a great deal. Hellbourne settled into a fighting stance, one glaive in front — the other behind his torso. The white-haired girl stood further back, running left and right and began tossing her moonglaive into the approaching horde in tight arcs past Hellbourne's body.

The last of the Sentinels' arrows thudded away into the milling throng, and the archers dropped their bows and reached for glaive and sword. The surviving huntresses and reformed in two squads on the edges of the formation, shields, glaives and mounts ready for the final clash. furbolgs lined up at the front, selflessly volunteering to try and absorb the brunt of the impact once the forces met. The wild nobility of their allies never failed to humble and amaze Akilina, and she prayed her people would continue to prove themselves worthy of such allies.

Her throat was dry, her lips chapped as her tongue licked nervously over it. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, increasing with every second the demons came closer. She glanced at Ursalani.

"Glaives."

The Sentinel nodded and called out, her deep, haunting voice rising above the sound of the encroaching demons. Other sisters echoed the call, and except where the furbolgs blocked their line of sight, the Night Elves reached back with their weapons. Ursalani raised her hand, waiting for Akilina's command. Spells and the odd projectile rained down upon the demon hunter and his charge, but the pair braved the barrage as if it was little more than a warm summer's rain. Green energy flared up in a dome around them whenever something got too close, and felfire, was well as arrows or chunks of earth and stone were evaporated as soon as they touched the eldritch barrier. The young girl kept tossing her weapon with uneering skill, the thought what would happen to her once the demons reached her apparently holding no terror for her.

Akilina waited until the very last moment. Then she gave the order. "Toss!" she screamed, and the Sentinels hurled their moonglaives into the enemy's ranks. Steel bit into living wood and bounced off as the corrupted treants weathered the spinning onslaught in place of their masters. The treemen cried out in pain, warped echoing sounds of splintering wood underlined with oozing spit, but the damage they sustained was superficial, and they lumbered on unimpeded. Things went less well for those satyrs too impatient to walk behind their wandering wooden shields. The demons stumbled and fell with terrible wounds and dismembered limbs, adding their own cries of pure agony to the treants' breaking lament. The kaldorei's signal horn cut right through it all with its long clarion call, the pristine sound returning a sense of harmony to the blighted forest, only to unleash the fury its defenders.

"Andu-falah-dor!" it echoed from dozens of lungs, and as one, the Sentinels and their allies surged forward to meet the demons' charge.

Trading glaives and infernal spells every step of the way, the two factions clashed in a peak of growls and snarls. furbolgs, nightsabers and satyrs lunged at each other with their claws. Steel met steel. Blades bit into the bark of corrupted treants, while their club-like fists bashed in heads and broke bones. The solely remaining hippogryph smashed into the legion's lines with its antlers, impaling one of the former Highborne, before swiping with its talons and kicking with its hooves. Physically, the Sentinels were no match for the satyr warriors, and any direct opposition was swept aside with gleeful savagery. Few Sentinels offered their adversaries such a combat, though. They ducked and swayed and retreated as best as the limited space allowed, taunting and harassing the demons as their formation as a whole intentionally buckled under the onslaught. In their wanton rage, the demons often realized this too late, and they fell prey to well-executed feints and deadly ripostes.

The first satyr that came at Akilina hurled itself at her with all the finesse of a rabid beast, going straight for her throat. Akilina ducked nimbly and brought up her glaive in a tight arc. One of the thorns sunk in deep into the demon's chest, even as Akilina used its own momentum to lift it over her head and toss it clear. A second satyr came at her, slashing at her with saber and claw. Akilina parried both, only to have the creature's horns headbutt her with sickening force. The impact rocked through her entire body. Her legs collapsed from under her, and she sunk to the ground, stunned and unable to react. Through her haze, she saw the satyr towering above her, the warped elven face twisted into a gleeful sneer, its sword raised for the final blow. The bodies of two Sentinels smashed into his form, and drove him back. One was instantly cut down, but her sister managed to pierce the beasts throat in return. Seconds later, she was ripped apart when more satyrs descended upon her.

Akilina tried to blink her world back into focus when something hauled her to her feet. It took a moment before she recognized Ursalani. Her face was splattered with blood. She nodded at her. It was a small gesture, but among the chaos of the battlefield, it was worth a lot. Together, they threw themselves into the fight once more.

Both sides gave as good as they got. Akilina and Ursalani fought back to back now, covering each other as the savage battle raged around her. It didn't matter that the satyrs' strength in number would ultimately carry the day. They would cut down as many as they could, and do so proudly, knowing that in laying down their lives they would serve both the forest as well as Mother Moon.

Again and again, she saw the demon hunter flash by at the periphery of her vision, glaives slashing and cutting, the lingering afterglow of his blazing tattoos flickering like poisonous torches. She caught glances of his shade as it jumped, twirled and danced among the demons with a speed no mortal could hope to match, weaving death with gluttonous haste. The next moment, he stood perfectly still, another demon wrapped up in intimate embrace, his braid-like strands drinking it dry of magic as green rings of fire kept the rest of the vile spawn at bay. His echoing laughter rose above the din of combat, drunken and unhinged and full of mockery, a constant pull on Akilina's sanity as she was fighting for her life. Yet another satyr came at her, not with demonic fury but with bewildered, fearful eyes that matched her own, and in that moment Akilina understood that even demons knew nightmares, and that one of them currently treaded among them, slaying at its leisure.

The white-haired girl was back within the thick of battle as well. She bled from a source of minor cuts, but held her own against the demonic warriors, killing her fair share, a small miracle in and by itself. It wasn't the only one. Great deeds of heroism and sacrifice were committed within mere feet of Akilina. She saw the noble hippogryph shred to pieces as it wrestled with half a dozen foes. She saw corrupted treants pulled down by the united efforts of furbolg and nightelf, and she saw mounts and riders and laying down their lives only so their partner might have a chance to live.

Akilina's hold upon her weapon was slick with blood and demon ichor by now. Her every limb felt leadened, and with each stroke the thought she would not find the strength for the one after it. Her head was pounding, and her left leg felt as if it was on fire, raked by five long satyr claws. Yet still she fought. Still she killed, again and again, until — suddenly — there was nothing more to kill.

The few remaining satyrs turned tail and ran back towards the tainted forest they had come from. Weary as she was, Akilina first thought it was some sort of trick, part of the devilish plan that would see her and her sisters undone. But as she took in the scene, and saw how many of her enemies lay dead or dying on the ground, she realized that it was not a play but victory. And she stood unsure, surprised and confused as to what to do with this life she had already given up on. Looking around, she saw the same expression of disbelief on the faces of her sisters. The survivors were so stunned and weary, none even bothered to pursuit the fleeing enemy. None but a monster and a girl. Their thirst for demon blood was not yet quenched, and between the girl's glaive and Hellbourne's magic crackling over the field, not a single demon made it to the safety of the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: After the Battle**

* * *

 **T** hey tended to their wounded in silence and set to clearing the battlefield with what sluggish movements could still be wrestled from their bodies now that the tension of battle had passed. They separated the bodies of friends and foe, and formed one large pile for each. The first was set ablaze as soon as it was built, a pyre to burn away the Legion's wickedness. The second burned too, but only after Akilina had administered her butchering of the rites she had once learned at the temple. Usually, her people did not burn their fallen, but with the horned Highbornes' knack for the dark magic of necromancy, military needs superseded their ancient cultural practices.

Hellbourne and his young charge watched these proceedings from a distance. They didn't lift a finger in care or honor of the fallen, which was probably just as well. The few surviving Sentinels were all either smart or weary enough not to take offense at the demon hunter's continuous presence, but Akilina was confident that any conceived desecration of a fallen comrade by his tainted touch would have been more than able to cause that situation to change.

From time to time, Akilina cast glances at the pair. The demon hunter stood still as a statue, arms crossed over his chest, the slight sway of his writhing strands otherwordly and utterly unnatural. His fanged jeer seemed to taunt her every move, as if the sight of toiling for the sake of the dead somehow amused him.

The girl tried to mimic the demon hunter's demeanor, and her face was an uncaring mask as she watched the misery that had been the price of victory. She didn't care at all for the fate of her own people, and emulating the demonic Highborne with his stoic posture soon lost its appeal. Before long, Akilina noticed how her eyes began to wander, seeking more compelling entertainment in the life-starved forests that surrounded them. Maybe it should have enraged Akilina, to see one of their kind care so little for the sacrifice of her sisters. But ultimately, all she felt was an incredible sadness. She couldn't stop wondering what might have caused for a young soul to become so numb to the plight of the suffering of others. Whatever it was, Akilina pitied her for it.

The pyres were still coughing thick plumes of smoke into the air, when Hellbourne at last started to walk towards them. The white-haired girl followed suit. Immediately, the remaining Sentinels formed up around Akilina and Ursalani, their hands clenching tightly around their still bloodied weapons. If the demon hunter was worried by the display of arms in any way, he gave no sign of it. He did stop in a respectable distance, staying outside of melee range. Whether that represented a precaution rather than just a mutual sense of aversion was anyone's guess.

"It is done," he announced, the words passing through his fangs as a ghostly hiss. "The demons have dispersed, sisters. More are roaming the woods further north, but they won't reach you before reinforcements arrive."

His words sent a shiver down Akilina's spine. He might have called them sisters, but up close and personal, Hellbourne looked even more nightmarish than Akilina would have thought. His name was well deserved. Still, Akilina refused to avert her eyes or let them glow in disgust. Whatever the motives or goals of the demon hunter have been, he had come to their aid when they had been in desperate need of assistance. It didn't redeem him from his crimes against their people and his spurning of the blessings of Mother Moon, but in Akilina's mind it should count for something, even though she wasn't sure what that something might have been.

"T — thank you," she said, "but I fear we will not be receiving any reinforcements any time soon. As far as we know, all our messenger owles were intercepted by the satyrs' foul magic. The rest of the Sentinels probably don't even know of our plight yet."

The demon hunter's head twitched once to the side. "They do now. Most likely they are expecting an ambush, so I would suggest not giving them any reason to mistake you for something else when they arrive."

Akilina furrowed her brows. "Why would they expect an — " she began, but then her sluggish mind finally caught on. "Oh..."

"Because the messenger was me." With his fang-filled grin, it sounded strangely comical to Akilina's ears.

She sighed. "We'll await their arrival, then."

Hellbourne made no reply. He stared at her for a while, before saying, "Do you permit a question?"

"I don't see why not."

"What is your name, sister?"

Akilina didn't know what exactly she had expected the question to be, but it certainly hadn't been that. But before she could reply, Ursalani stepped in front of her, hands resting upon her moonglaive.

"She is not your sister, fiend," she hissed. "None of us are!"

"Ursalani!"

Ursalani glanced at Akilina. "I apologize, sister," she said, "but I am not going to stand by idly and allow this ... this consorting with this creature to continue! He is an abomination, and unworthy of both your mercy and your pity."

Hellbourne started to laugh. It started as a mere chuckle, but he couldn't contain it, and a full-blown cackle broke through his lips. This was nothing like the mad laughter that Akilina had heard echoing over the battlefield. There was no arrogance in it, no sense of gloating or thirsting for the enemy's demise. This was honest, if gleeful laughter. In a way, it was more frightening than the other one. Madness was a thing the Sentinels learned to expect from those outcasts meddling with forces that should be left alone, but joyous laughter was not. It seemed utterly out of place, both in regards to where they were and to who it was coming from. This in turn made Hellbourne appear even more crazy, but in an unexpected and much more terrifying way.

Ursalani felt it too. Akilina could see it in the way that her body tensed up. She felt taunted and threatened, and as always she dealt with it in the only fashion she knew how; by taking a step forward and confronting it.

"What are you laughing about?" she shouted at him. "How dare you mocking us!?"

Hellbourne's laughter died down gradually. "'Us', sister? No, not 'us', just you."

Ursalani rushed forward before the sentence was even finished. Akilina's frantic cry for her to stop passed unheeded. The other Sentinels would have rallied to Ursalani's cause, too, had she not been stopped dead in her tracks by a blade pointing at her throat long before she had reached the demon hunter.

The girl's white hair was still hovering in the air in the aftermath of her dash, settling only slowly as she barred Ursalani's way, ready to pounce. Her face and voice still did not betray the slightest of emotions.

"You want me to kill this one, master?"

As if to make her point, she pressed the edge of her glaive against Ursalani's neck, strong enough to draw blood. Ursalani gulped, but refused to back down. Her brow started to twitch, and she looked down on the girl in her fighting crouch with a mixture of hatred and disgust.

"You've just sealed your fate," she promised. "You better kill me now, girl, for I will not rest until I've hunted you down. There will be no resting place for you, no unholy sanctuary where I will not find you. Your life from here on out will be a living hell."

The impact of her words on the girl was considerable, but not in the way Ursalani had intended. Madness grew and bloomed in her as it was nurtured by the Sentinel's hatred, and it broke through and blossomed onto her face in a crazy smile that came rivaled even her master's demonic grimace. She pushed down harder upon her blade, forcing Ursalani to take a step back.

"Done," she said, then glanced back over her shoulder. "Master?"

Hellbourne looked pleased, and not for the first time, Akilina found herself annoyed by not being able to read the demon hunter's face. Still, she instinctively interpreted his bared fangs at every opportunity as something amounting to a smile. In actuality, she had no idea what the demon hunter's answer would be, and even though she wasn't aware, she was holding her breath. It wasn't what she should have been doing. A small part of her was dimly aware of that. She was still in charge. She should have gotten involved, backing Ursalani up or at least trying to defuse the siuation by appealing to Hellbourne on her sister's behalf. And yet, she did none of these things. The voice of duty was nothing but an incomprehensible murmur floating around in her sluggish mind, and she merely stood by and watched in a weary stupor as things unfolded, nothing more than a passive bystander. She had reached her personal limit many times over.

Hellbourne took his time. "Leave her be," he said eventually. "We're here to slay demons, not fools. Besides, nothing will irk her kind more than a show of mercy and restraint."

The way Ursalani's face darkened, Hellbourne might have had a point there. Still, the girl did not lower her weapon straight away. She was tempted to defy her master, the longing to cut and spill the Sentinel's blood apparent in the tension putting her entire body on the verge of quivering. She wanted to hurt her, and badly, and Akilina could not help but wonder why. Then, without further warning, the girl lowered the moonglaive and turned her back to Ursalani, walking back to her master's side. Hellbourne didn't comment upon her hesitation. He merely nodded, totally ignoring Ursalani and the other Sentinels who were glaring daggers at them.

"Come. Our work is done. You have done well today. I believe it is time."

The girl's face lit up a little at the received praise, and then a weak smile appeared on her lips. "I am ready?"

Her voice was doubtful, but Hellbourne nodded at her.

"You are ready," he repeated. "It is time to meet the Glaive-maker."

Akilina watched the conversation as if in a trance. The smile had been the first childlike gesture Akilina had seen in the girl, and witnessing it tore at the very fabric of her soul. She was sad beyond her ability to describe. It was just wrong; wrong and unnatural and wrong, so utterly wrong. She was sure the girl had endured enough. There was no other reason to explain how a person so young could have been driven to choose the path of the Betrayer. Yet despite her suffering and madness, she had somehow found the strength to fight, and with that strength she had today saved the lives of many. Akilina could not help but to respect and admire that. But rather than earning her peoples gratitude, she would go with a cursed half-demon, and fully embrace his dark ways, turning her into a traitor within the eyes of her people. Not only would she have lost whatever dear person whose loss drove her unto this path, but she would lose every chance of ever being accepted and cared for by her people. Without noticing, tears brimmed over in Akilina's eyes, and one thought shifted to the forefront of her awareness with striking clarity.

She would not allow it.

The rest of her people might have already considered the girl to be lost. They might not approve, but Akilina was beyond caring about social and cultural stigmata at this point. If not for the demon hunters, she would have died without ever questioning how thoroughly her true self had been buried under layers upon layers of doctrines that were not her own. They had taken the temple away from her, made her a warrior and turned her into a weapon for her people to wield as they saw fit. After what she had just been through, she thought she had earned herself a moment to be herself.

She had had tried to follow and do what was expected of her. To look for guidance towards those people society deemed the most fit to lead, but she was too worn out to pretend to be something that she was not. Just this once, she would not allow hate and disgust to guide her actions. Just this once, she would follow the Goddesses' true tenants, and nurture and protect instead of judge and smite.

The demon hunters had already turned to leave when Akilina suddenly rushed at the girl. Immediately, her glaives flashed to meet her, but when she saw that Akilina was coming at her unarmed and with a face of desperation, the white-haired girl hesitated, and Akilina crashed into her form and threw her arms around her. Surprised, the girl tried to fend her off, but the Sentinel's grip was iron and she hauled the younger kaldorei off the ground and pressed her tightly against herself. Then she backed away, almost cradling the flailing girl like an infant in a futile attempt to shield her with her own body. As the staggered backwards, her tear-streaked eyes stared fearfully at the monstrosity that was Hellbourne. Akilina was sure he would try to reclaim his lost charge. Yet nothing happened. Hellbourne had turned halfway as Akilina had grabbed the girl, but he gave no indication of going after her or attacking the Sentinel. He just stood there, grinning.

"How intriguing, sister," he said. "Please, do enlighten us. Just what is it you are attempting to do?"

Akilina backed further away. A few of her sisters moved in to support her, but even they exchanged unsure and confused glances. Akilina did not seem to notice. Right in this moment, all she could think about was saving the girl.

"You can't have her!" she shouted. "She is still one of the kaldorei, and I'll be damned before I let a demon like you take her away. She deserves better."

Hellbourne did not so much as flinch. "True," he answered. "But then life is rarely about what a person deserves. Whatever the case, it is not my decision to make. Nor yours."

Akilina wanted to ask what Hellbourne meant by that, but before she could an elbow hammered into her stomach and left her gasping for air. She tried to hold on, but the elbow thundered into her once more, and the girl slid from her grasp. Akilina slumped to the ground, her vision blurring in and out of focus. Above her she saw the shadowy silhouette of the girl. Akilina raised her hand, desperately trying to reach her. A merciless kick exploded against the side of her head and sent her face into the blood-drenched mud. Akilina groaned and fought against the unconsciousness that was threatening to overcome her. A wave of nausea washed over her. She heard the girl moving away.

"Why," Akilina whispered and coughed violently. "I was only trying to help you."

The footsteps stopped. Akilina could feel the girl's eyes resting upon her.

"I don't want your help."

The irony of the words were not lost on Akilina. Still, hearing them brought forth a new wave of anguish. When the blackness came this time, she welcomed it with open arms.


End file.
